//------------------------------//
// Echoes 
// Story: Echoes 
// by Clavier 
//------------------------------//


Echoes
by Clavier


“You… want me?”

“Why act so shocked? You’re the finest fashion designer in Equestria!” His practiced lie hadn’t worked well on any of the past six fashion designers he’d spoken to, but that didn’t stop him from saying it with gusto and apparent sincerity. “And the Canterlot Fashion Re-View won’t settle for anything less!”

His lawyer had told him that adding a hyphen only avoided trademark issues when written. He rarely listened to his lawyer.

As much as she imagined herself as an up-and-coming fashion starlet, Rarity had come to accept that it was a slow, difficult path. Opportunity wouldn’t just drop into her lap, she had to seek it out. So this sort of a situation was unprecedented, and she approached it with as much scepticism as optimism.

Even so… the Canterlot Fashion Review doesn’t just knock on every couturier’s door.

“But surely you have access to the finest fashion designers in all of Equestria. Why would you want–”

“We have access to the oldest fashion designers in Equestria,” he rebuffed with a guffaw. He walked to her side and put a hoof in the air, as if painting some vast portrait. “We’ve acquired an all new locale, a brand new set, a stage and theater like you’ve never seen before! We’re building a new Canterlot Fashion Re-View, and we want a fresh, new fashion designer to debut! I want that new designer to be you.”

On a more personal note, his lawyer had told him that rhyming didn’t actually win over mares’ hearts. He rarely listened to his lawyer.

“Well…”

OK, he thought, laying it on a bit too thick. Lighten up and I’ll win her over.

“Now, don’t get me wrong. This is a new venue and there’s some risk involved. There’s always the possibility that the whole place could be a flop. It’ll be up to you to make it shine.”

She furrowed her brow and tapped a hoof on the ground in deep concentration.

Oh, who am I kidding.

“I’ll do it!”





Rarity trotted gleefully down the streets of Canterlot, only somewhat sure of where she was going, but not willing to let her friends see that confusion. She balanced a bevy of bags above her, each surrounded in a protective blue glow, and each full of an assortment of fabrics and supplies. All of her closest friends were in tow, with all but Twilight Sparkle and Rainbow Dash gleeful at the opportunity to help their friend. Twilight was concerned, as she recognized the part of Canterlot they were venturing into. For her part, Rainbow simply didn’t care enough about fashion to feign interest, but still tagged along in the interest of helping Rarity.

Finding the right street, Rarity ducked around a corner and sped along, unable to slow from her excited gallop. The crowds had thinned by this point, and the path was only wide enough to comfortably accommodate three ponies’ breadth, but only Twilight noticed this. She’d expected it. This was the oldest part of Canterlot, and although it had a rustic sort of charm to it, it wasn’t as maintained as the newer sections. Being the capital city and controlled by strong magic, it wasn’t dangerous in the least, but it was nonetheless an unpleasant part of town to venture into. Her concern for the situation distracting her from her walking, she bumped directly into Rarity’s flank. Her immediate apology died on her lips when her eyes focused on the designer’s dour expression, then on the building they had stopped in front of.

It was a concert hall. Probably it had been a magnificent spectacle in its day, but its day had long since passed, and only a shadow of its former glory remained. The stone façade which had formerly given it a congruous appearance with the remainder of the capital was crumbling from years of neglect, revealing unfinished wooden walls below. What few windows weren’t opaque with decades of gathered dust were broken or simply missing, and the curtains which had once adorned each were only present on two, tattered and mildewed beyond repair. The heavy wooden door which served as the main entrance had survived well, and was actually quite attractive, with cherrywood highlights in an oak frame with a dark varnish. But its single beacon of beauty just served to highlight the dilapidation around it.

Twilight spoke in the softest, most comforting tone she could manage. “I’m so sorry, Rarity.”

Fluttershy’s usual hushed tones put Twilight’s attempt to shame. “No, it’s very… nice.”

“Well,” Applejack added, “it could use a bit o’ fixin’ up, maybe a fresh coat o’ paint, but Ah think it’ll be alright.”

“It’s a dump.”

“Rainbow!” Twilight’s attempt to interrupt the egregiously unhelpful jeer was too little, too late.

Rarity’s eye twitched slightly, a grimace gracing her visage for a bare moment. But she was not easily dissuaded, her foul mood replaced in a flash by inspiration and determination.

“No, Rainbow Dash is right. But this is still my first, best chance to make a splash in Canterlot. I can make this work. I will make this work! … with some help from my friends, if you’ll oblige me.” She didn’t turn away from the building, and in fact had begun to trot inside before even finishing. Trust in this group of friends had become second nature to her, she didn’t even consider the possibility that they wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to help her, and rightly so, as they followed her in without the slightest inkling of doubt.

Now driven by a shared loyalty, the group was in brighter spirits as they entered the hall, and that shared elation seemed to improve their perception of the place. The carpet wasn’t dingy, it just needed a good cleaning. The ticket counter wasn’t weathered and worn, it was rustic and homey. The walls weren’t peeling or bare, they just needed a coat of paint. And proper lighting would do the place wonders. In reality, nothing about it was as bad as the group had feared, it was merely imperfect.

As they left the foyer and entered the concert hall proper, all were instantly gripped by the sheer scale of the place. Before its abandonment, when the hall was bright as the brilliant music which would have filled this cavernous expanse, it would have been a wonder to behold, a testament to ponies’ ingenuity and artisanship. In its rundown state, it was still a spectacle, but more for its seemingly endless depths, with walls running to distant dark corners. Rarity gasped, barely audibly, but regretted it instantly, having filled her lungs with stagnant, dry, dusty air. The hall wasn’t decayed, per se, but it had certainly remained unused for a very long time.

With a quick glow from her horn, she activated some of the lamps, flooding the stage with light and revealing the true enormity of the hall. In particular, the ceiling was high. Very, very high. There were two balconies, each two stories from the floor below, and the ceiling towered well above even the second. This wasn’t atypical for concert halls of its time, but was surprising and impressive nonetheless. For a moment, even the unicorns were smiling, taking in the worn beauty of this place. That moment, however, was fleeting.

The couturier allowed her gaze to fall, meticulously inspecting and cataloging aloud all the tasks that would need to be done between babbles and observations. “The walls will need to at least be scrubbed. I suppose with careful lighting they may not need to be repainted… oh dear, however will I make the lighting perfect with such a high ceiling? Hmm. Well, at least the stage is alright, although it wasn’t exactly made for fashion shows. The stage curtains will just have to– is that Caperdian silk? How could anypony allow such fabulous fabric to go to waste, tattered and gathering dust! I simply must repair them. But let’s just take them down and fold them, gently, for now. Must focus on the essentials. Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, can you take down the curtains, while–”

Rainbow interrupted, darting to mere inches from Rarity’s face with a coy grin. “And put them where? Wouldn’t want to damage your precious,” she began mocking Rarity’s exaggerated lilt, “Caperdian silk!”

Rarity opened her mouth to retort, but wasn’t allowed the opportunity before Rainbow halted her with a convivial wag of the tongue. She flew up to the stage, laughing as she explored the curtains’ fastenings.

A chuckle undermined Rarity’s attempt at staring daggers back. With a quick survey of the stage, she made a decision, and pointed at a large, wooden stand that towered a story above the rest of the platform. It was well preserved and varnished to glow brilliantly, without being obtrusive, and allow room for performers beneath it as well. “Just fold it neatly and set it on the clavier stand.”

“… the what now?”

She put a hoof to her head. “The big stand over the stage, it’s for the piano.”

Rainbow flitted up to its peak in a flash, hollering down, “why does the piano need to be so high anyway?”

This elicited another chuckle; frankly, Rarity had no idea why, as music wasn’t her passion, but that didn’t stop her from speculating. “Well, clavierists are known for being rather full of themselves, but never mind that, just put the curtains up there.”

Rainbow laughed lightheartedly and did a flip in the air. “Yes, ma’am! C’mon, Fluttershy!”

With a militaristic salute, she snagged Fluttershy from midair and set them about the task of gently removing the curtains. Rarity went on to assign more tasks.

“Now, perhaps Pinkie and Twilight can begin working on the walls, and Applejack and I will clean the floors? I’m terribly sorry to ask you all to do such… menial labor, but–”

Applejack interrupted her with a beaming smile. “Don’t ya think nothin’ of it, that’s what friends are for, right y’all?”

Pinkie and Twilight agreed enthusiastically, and set themselves to the task at hoof.

“Now,” Applejack continued with a playful nudge, “Ah don’t mind a bit o’ work one lick, but Ah’ve never seen ya get a speck o’ dirt on your hooves, so this oughtta be a treat.”

Rarity laughed but set aside the jeer, now in too good of spirits to be offended. She examined the state of the hall. The rows were separated by unappealing iron bars that had a distressingly penitentiary-like allure, and drab metal seats were scattered about haphazardly for those few ponies who preferred to use them.

With a grunt and all pride set aside, she bit into a corner of faded carpet, and began to pull it up. Applejack followed suit, and soon the hours were flying by as the group went through their tasks.

As night settled, the hall was looking magnificent once again. All but Rarity were standing on the stage, tiredly but proudly the fruits of their hard labor. Even Rainbow Dash had found an enthusiasm for the tasks, and was flying circles above the stage, still expending her seemingly endless cache of energy.

A beam of blue light swept across the group, and they all looked up to see its source. Perched on rafters hanging mere feet from the ceiling was Rarity, adjusting the heavy industrial lamps which lit the stage and arena. She was clearly a bit wobbly from the hours of work behind her, but she nonetheless carefully prodded each light seeking out an unachievable perfection.

“Oh, Rarity,” Fluttershy squeaked, only audible to the lofty unicorn due to the incredible acoustics of the room, “I really think you should let me or Rainbow Dash do that. It looks… scary.”

Rarity hollered back down, “That’s very sweet of you, Fluttershy, but everything must be absolutely perfect!”

She continued adjusting the lights for a moment, before realizing what she’d said. She sprung to the edge of the rafters and cried down once more.

“Not that you couldn’t do this perfectly as well, darling, it’s just I–!”

Her voice halted abruptly as a rusting iron bar holding up the rafter she was standing on groaned under its newfound weight.

Everypony was frozen for an instant, waiting for another sound. The sound of the bar adjusting reverberated through the hall, but mercifully stopped after several seconds, leaving the room silent once more. Rarity took a step back.

The bar broke, then another shattered near it. Within seconds the entire construction was falling apart, and Rarity was careening through the air.

It wasn’t a wholly unfamiliar sensation. And it was no less terrifying this time than it had been the previous. She watched the ceiling slowly drift away, even as the rafters, lights and other equipment attached to it continued to decay and snap, before closing her eyes to the turmoil above her.

What a foolish way to die, she scolded herself, trying to perfect the lighting in a second rate–

She felt foolish once again as her fall was halted much earlier and more gently than she had expected. Of course she could count on Rainbow Dash to save her. That’s what Rainbow Dash did. Her relief was tempered by embarrassment, but nonetheless she allowed her eyes to open once more.

She didn’t like what she saw.

“Rainbow Dash, watch out!”

The falling industrial light hadn’t escaped Rainbow’s attention, but her momentum was inescapable. With a powerful buck, she sent the confused white unicorn flying through the air, before the brutally solid equipment crashed squarely into her head. Tumbling head-over-hooves, Rarity didn’t have time to regain her fear before landing comfortably on the folded curtains, twisting slightly before settling on her back, staring upside-down at Rainbow.

The pegasus was unconscious, falling with her back to the ground. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the sheer height, but the fall seemed to take an eternity. Rarity watched helplessly as her friend fell, excruciating inch by excruciating inch, towards the unforgiving steel bars below.

“Wake up, Rainbow. Please, wake up!”

From a distant corner, Fluttershy screamed and folded into herself with fear.

Rainbow Dash continued to plummet, not a muscle moving to control her hapless freefall.

“Please, for the love of Celestia, wake up!”

Although slowed, the inevitable progression of time refused to stand still. The yards closed to feet, the feet closed to inches. There wasn’t an instant left for Rainbow to react, even if she could. Terrified of seeing the impending collision, Rarity covered her eyes in her hooves, shrinking deeper into the cushioning warmth of the folded Caperdian silk.

She didn’t need to see anything.

The sound was agonizingly precise, amplified by the carefully designed reverberations of the room. A pop, then a visceral tearing that rang through her ears like sharpened hooves on a chalkboard. Then there was a loud crack, the sound of bone torn from bone. Finally just the light squeak of the perturbed seat, rebalancing itself. The room repeated these sounds, over and over, each repetition with less precision but more depth. A pop, a tear, a crack, a squeak. Again and again the hall forced the sounds into her ears. Or perhaps she was just simply the sounds in her mind. They seemed to get louder, each echo distorting further from their original precision until they had blended into a shrill cry of pain.

The conclusion was clear to her, and clear to everypony else present as well. Nopony could have survived that.

Rainbow Dash was dead.





It was cold and wet. The muddy grass begat muddy hooves, which in turn begat even more sadness than a funeral normally would.

Rarity was the last to arrive. She wore a clearly hoof-made black ensemble that was somehow precisely as magnificent as it was subdued, the sort of look that only she could attain. She silently joined her friends and stared up at the empty stage.

Fluttershy quivered uncontrollably under Twilight’s reassuring but ultimately hopeless hoof. Both were adorned by simple, black wool cloaks. Applejack carried an odd expression somewhere between a scowl and choked sobs, but wore nothing out of the ordinary, watching as the rain parted around her hat, sparing her head but little else.

Pinkie Pie… was not Pinkie Pie. She looked completely blank, like her soul had been dredged from her and trodden upon. Her expression wasn’t of sadness, or malaise, or shock or even surprise. It was simply… nothing. Nopony was behind the mask. She even looked less pink than usual.

The venue was the Ponyville cemetery, at the northwestern edge of town. It was a simple, expansive grass field, dotted by headstones which simply bore the names of the town’s fallen. It was far from the usual bustle of Ponyvillians, wasn’t especially large, and wasn’t often visited. Everypony seemed to prefer it that way. Its only decoration beyond a simple picket fence and gate was a small, wooden stage with a table and podium.

Currently on the table was a gloriously-adorned, rainbow-colored box. In the box was the Equestrial remains of one of Ponyville’s true heros. Behind the podium was Equestria’s mayor, running a hoof through her grey hair nervously as ponies filed in.

When it seemed that nopony else was going to speak, she began her speech.

“I’m sorry to say that I was never a personal friend of Rainbow Dash. She was an employee and I was an employer.

“But I think I can speak to some of her skills that you may not have been aware of.”

With a listless sigh, she looked up to the drearily leaking clouds. “Doesn’t it seem odd that we would schedule rain for an event like this? Well, that’s because we didn’t.

“In any other town of this size, everypony would just expect the weather to be a bit unpredictable. We can’t afford the kind of weather resources that Canterlot or Cloudsdale has. But we had an ace in the hole, a secret weapon.

“We had Rainbow Dash.

“Nopony else in all of Equestria could do her job like she did. And we all know she didn’t even particularly care for the job, she was just that good at it.” The mayor looked directly at Twilight now. “You may not believe this, but Dash was one of the most organized ponies you could ever hope to know. She didn’t like to show it, she probably thought it made her seem weak, but when it came to the weather, she had this town working like clockwork.”

She looked up to the sky once more. “This will sound dreadfully poetical, but the sky is weeping for her fallen comrade. If Rainbow Dash were here, she could comfort the clouds like nopony else. Without her, her weather team can only struggle to keep the clouds’ emotions at bay. I… I can’t think of any better testament than that.”

She looked back down, and realized she’d never announced the event itself. “I’m so glad you could all come to pay our final respects to Ponyville’s loyalest hero. If anypony else would like to speak, the podium is open.” She stepped aside, looking hopefully at the group.

For a few tense moments, the only sound was the patter of raindrops hitting mud. When nopony else volunteered, Twilight broke the silence by walking to the podium. She was stoic, composed, and prepared; although she had no notes with her, it was obvious that she’d memorized exactly what she wished to say. This was in stark contrast to the pony she was there to mourn, but nopony seemed to mind. Twilight Sparkle could only be Twilight Sparkle.

“There are some things you can’t learn in books.

“Actually, I read that in a book. But I didn’t believe it. I didn’t learn it from that book. I don’t think I learned it at all until I came to Ponyville, and in particular until I met Rainbow Dash.

“I don’t think she’s ever read a single book that doesn’t have the word ‘daring’ in the title, but I’ve learned more from her than half the books in my library. Not about magic, or science, or organization, but about life, and spirit, and tenacity. She had an approach to life that I can only envy. Everything was a game to her.

“And yet she was always the closest friend anypony could ask for. Whether that meant helping you with some minor task, or… or saving your life.” Her perfectly rehearsed composure faltered for a moment. She wiped a tear away with a hoof. “I think the best we can do to remember her is to try to see life like she did. Just try to enjoy it.

“Thank you.” With that she stepped down.

No longer under the comforting hoof of Twilight, Fluttershy seemed to be pulled by otherworldly forces to the stage, although it was clear that she didn’t want to be there at all. There was a fair degree of shock at this in the visages of those audience members capable of expressing it.

She approached the stage slowly, nearly fumbling at every step. The mayor made a motion as if to help her, but thought better of it, and simply stood at the corner as she had been. By the time Fluttershy had reached the podium, her previous quivering had heightened into a violent shaking, and her wings twitched as if to make a sudden escape. Her cloak and coat were drenched in rainwater, so if she was crying it was well hidden, but her violent spasms were not. Pink hair covered her face and forelegs in tangled locks, and her eyes were panicked and wild. She managed to regain none of her composure in the minute it took her to speak.

“I…”

She grabbed the podium with both forehooves for balance.

“I…”

She planted her hind hooves in the ground firmly.

“I’m so sorry,” she blubbered, all of her jitters and shakes having melted into sobs, “it’s all my fault! I should have done something, I could have done something! I was so scared, and I’m always so scared, and if I could just have been more like Rainbow Dash then… then…”

She choked through her words and coughed on their violent throes for a moment, before continuing softly.

“I can’t ask you to forgive me. Nopony could ever forgive me. I’m the only one who could have… could have saved her.”

Her head drooped and she just cried softly, tears mingling with the still incessant rain, unable to find any greater apology for her sins. She held this stance for a minute while the audience shifted uncomfortably, before turning to the casket and collapsing against it, now blathering incoherent apologies at her passed friend, at the crowd, at everypony. The casket was so dreadfully joyful and spirited in its design, a stark contrast to the assemblage.

To everypony’s surprise, Rarity, having not so much as flinched a muscle since arriving, walked carefully to Fluttershy’s side and put a hoof around her. With a quick and practiced action, Fluttershy found herself covered secondarily in Rarity’s cloak, rocked gently and shushed. Slowly, gently, she calmed herself back to her former quivering, and moved back to her place in the crowd, her sputtered sobs nearly silent against the backdrop of rainfall.

Again she was comforted by Twilight’s hoof. “Nopony blames you, Fluttershy.”

Now alone, unprotected from the torrent, and staring at the coffin before her, Rarity found herself compelled to speak. She turned and approached the podium with complete composure and clarity, and held the crowd’s attention with her usual spectacular countenance. Only the patter of rain stood to interrupt her.

She spoke one simple sentence with neither quaver nor hesitance.

“She should have allowed me to fall.”

Without a moment for anypony to comprehend this, she walked away, leaving the funeral altogether.





After the funeral had ended and everypony had said their goodbyes, both to the deceased and to each other, they had all parted ways, with one exception. Twilight had asked Applejack to come with her, and they were now together in the library, drying off before a fire. Dusk was falling, and they were alone in silence but for the crackling logs. The only light was from the flames, dancing off the sorted bookshelves and knick-knacks.

Twilight had returned to stoicism, and spoke gravely after collecting her thoughts.

“Applejack, I know this is hard, and it’s a bad time, but I’m really concerned for Fluttershy and Rarity and Pinkie Pie. I think we’re the only ones who can help them.”

Applejack shook the stupor from her mind, trying poorly to imitate her companion’s collectedness. “Ah… no, Pinkie’ll be fine. She was just like this when her parents died. Heck, she was just like this when mah parents died. Just give ‘er time.”

Although her nod was sceptical at best, Twilight nonetheless concluded that dealing with two distraught ponies would be easier than dealing with three, so pressed on. “And Fluttershy and Rarity?”

Pulling her still damp hat brim lower over her face, Applejack spoke softly. “Ah don’t rightly know about Rarity. As for Fluttershy…” Her faltering voice told all.

“OK, Applejack, then we both need to help Fluttershy get through this. Tomorrow–”

Applejack bristled and stomped a hoof. “Now.”

Twilight was taken aback at the unexpected interruption. But when Applejack asserted herself, she was not to be taken lightly.

“Ah… Ah’m afraid for ‘er. Ah think she might try to… hurt herself.” Her grim, fierce tone made it plain that she would accept no argument, and Twilight offered none. With a nod, she doused the fire and they both set back out into the rain which they had so recently escaped.

Ponyville was dark, its colors drained by its loss. The pair plodded through the growing puddles with the mayor’s words echoing in their mind. This rain wasn’t scheduled. It was merely an echo of the town’s despair; it grieved for its friend just as did everypony.

They trudged mutely, each step bringing a new chill along with its new spatter of mud. Neither thought of that; they considered what they would say, what they would do. In truth, the only pony who had ever been successful at lifting Fluttershy from depression was Fluttershy, but this situation seemed different. This was beyond apology or remorse, this was a melancholy unlike anypony had ever seen Fluttershy experience. The minutes spent in their wordless march to her cottage provided no breakthroughs, but neither were willing to discuss the situation aloud, so they nonetheless remained silent until they arrived at her door.

Fluttershy’s cottage was usually a joyous place, surrounded by gleeful animals and the occasional would-be suitor, and typically no contemptible downpour would appreciably sour that sanguine image; the fact that the cottage they arrived at now was merely the vapid shell of that former place stood as confirmation of their fears. The silence was frightening. No songbirds sang, no squirrels chittered or snakes slid. And no sound came from beyond the door.

Twilight and Applejack took only seconds to survey the scene before giving each other a quick look, then simultaneously knocking frantically on the door.

Oddly, their knocking was reciprocated by knocking from the other side.

Confused, alarmed, and impassioned in her goal, Twilight knocked once more.

And was once again met by a knock from the other side.

“… hello?”

Whatever frustration can be conveyed by the rhythm of rapping on a door was resoundingly evident in the response. Timidly, Twilight cracked open the door, and was immediately accosted by a frantic white rabbit who tugged helplessly at her tail.

“Angel! Where’s Fluttershy?”

Angel rolled his eyes at the question and pointed inside. Twilight and Applejack cautiously followed his lead and entered.

Fluttershy was prone on a plain yellow couch, crying into a pillow. Her coat was wet and bedraggled, and her mane lay in tangled locks, and she was almost completely silent but for the occasional gasping sob.

Applejack approached her carefully and gingerly set a hoof on her shoulder. She leapt at the unexpected contact and stared at the intruders in utter terror for a brief moment, before that façade melted away. Tensely, she embraced Applejack, soaking both of them, while blubbering “I’m so sorry” repeatedly through sobs.

Applejack seemed aghast at the unexpected hug, so Twilight spoke in her stead. “Fluttershy, please don’t say that. It’s not–”

Fluttershy released Applejack, and her nervousness and doubt vanished in an instant, replaced by morbid anger. Her voice was raspy and pained as she shouted, “Don’t tell me it’s not my fault! It is my fault! I could have done something but I didn’t!”

Her ears and neck drawn back into a defensive position, Twilight could do nothing but stare, agape. Applejack backed away, planting herself at the other side of the room.

Fluttershy breathed heavily for a moment, then spoke more quietly, but with the same fervor. “I could have saved her.”

“No, Flutter–”

“Yes! I can fly!” She flapped her wings to demonstrate. “All I had to do was fly, but I was so afraid…”

Applejack trembled strangely with an unreadable expression in her brows. She didn’t speak.

“Nopony could blame you for–”

“That doesn’t matter! Rainbow Dash would have been brave, Rainbow Dash would have swallowed her fears.”

Applejack’s expression continued to contort. Still she remained silent.

“You’re not being fair to yourself, Fluttershy.”

She shrugged off the claim. “All I had to do was–”

Finally, Applejack’s mood broke, and she was overcome by choleric rage. “All ya had to do was fly!” She pounced, knocking Fluttershy, shocked and dazed, to the ground.

“What the hay are those wings for if ya can’t even use ‘em, huh?!” Enraged by grief and enmity, she struck mercilessly at her entrapped prey, hitting harder with each proceeding blow.

“Applejack!” Twilight cried out in alarm, but to little effect.

“Ya could’ve saved her life, Fluttershy!” At first, Fluttershy had defended herself, trying to block her face with her hooves, but now she let them down, silently capitulating to the onslaught. Her lip was bloody and her eyes were squeezed shut, buffeted by tears and cracked skin. Angel swung from Applejack’s mane, trying in desperate futility to tear her away from his master.

“Ya could’ve saved her and all ya did was sit there! Ya let her die, Fluttershy! Ya let her die!”

“Applejack! Stop!”

Applejack’s attack continued unabated; she throttled Fluttershy ruthlessly, bashing her victim’s head into the floorboards. “Ya let her die!” Angel flew off, landing in a distant corner from whence he stared back in horror. “Ya let her die!” Applejack’s eyes were wide with savagery and grief, but also rimmed by barely-restrained tears. “Ya let her die!” Her voice cracked and wavered. “Ya let her die!” She continued to swing wildly as she was dragged away by the tail with a powerful magenta glow. “Ya let her die, ya let her die!” Finally, she took notice of her unconnecting shots and stared at her forehooves.

They were stained a dull red. She looked at them in horror, slowly regaining her composure and character.

While she was entranced by her own hooves, Twilight had moved swiftly to Fluttershy’s side. She was unconscious, lying in a growing pool of her own blood.





There was a pounding at the door, but it was nigh inaudible behind the screaming in her mind.

Rarity reclined languidly on a plush velvet couch. Usually it was sufficient to raise her spirits by its luxury alone, even when using it to play the role of the damsel in distress, but on this occasion its lavish offerings were not of the sort she needed. She gripped her head in her hooves, a hollow attempt to halt the sounds which reverberated through her skull as a tortured wail.

A pop, a tear.

Just what did I think I was doing up there, anyway?

A crack, a squeak.

The whole endeavor was a flight of foalish fancy.

The sound of bone torn from flesh.

I dragged her out there. I dragged them all out there.

The reverberance of viscera rent in twain.

She was just being loyal. Always so damnably loyal.

Squeak… squeak… squeak…

She tore her body from its recumbency and her hooves from her head, along with a distressing amount of her now muddied and matted fur, and frantically darted to the source of the only other sound she heard; anything at all to distract her. She threw open the door in such a wild frenzy that her visitor recoiled instinctively in fright. She breathed heavily and stared with wide, red but dry eyes.

“R–Rarity?” With her eyes forced shut in her shrunken pose, Sweetie Belle looked less like the intruder that Rarity had expected than the frightened filly that she was. “Are you OK?”

Apologetically, Rarity calmed, and spoke softly but with disquietude. “No, Sweetie Belle. I am not OK. Nothing is OK.”

“Do… do you want a hug?”

She almost smiled, and accepted the embrace graciously. Sweetie Belle’s own manner faltered, as she was finally presented with a shoulder to cry on.

“Why do bad things happen to good ponies, Rarity?”

Rarity grimaced. “Perhaps… perhaps tragedy is always waiting in the wings, and we’re lucky enough to miss it most of the time. But sometimes when it finds us… sometimes it’s our own fault. Sometimes we’re just careless, or foolish, or negligent, and somepony else suffers for our romantic delusions.”

It was hardly reassuring, but then she hadn’t intended for it to be. Having been barely treading the water over despair, Sweetie Belle found herself dragged under, and wept openly in her sister’s embrace. Rarity said nothing, barely thought, and barely breathed.

A pop, a tear, a crack, a squeak. A flight of fancy.





“Fluttershy?”

Twilight softly calling her name was barely audible over the ringing in her ears.

“Ya let her die.”

No, that wasn’t Twilight. That was somepony else.

“Fluttershy? Can you hear me?”

Twilight again. She was getting confused, and cracked open an eye, only to immediately shut it under the violent attack of light and sharp pain of bruised ocular muscles. She gasped painedly at the attempt, which elicited a more excited response from the purple blob above her she’d briefly glimpsed.

“Fluttershy! Don’t try to move, don’t try to open your eyes. You’re going to be fine, just lie still.”

“Ya let her die.”

Where was that other voice coming from? It seemed so close, too close to be another pony. Still, she heeded Twilight’s warning.

After a few increasingly tranquil breaths, she spoke. “My head hurts.”

“You were cut up pretty bad, but I stopped the bleeding. Other than that, how are you feeling?”

“Ya let her die.”

Perhaps, she decided, it was the cruel voice of kismet. “It’s my fault, Twilight. I should’ve saved her.”

Warm legs carefully surrounded her, pulling her in without exacerbating her wounds. Twilight shushed her softly. “Please stop talking like that, Fluttershy. It’s not your fault.”

“… but I could have saved her.”

“I could’ve probably done something with my magic. Applejack could’ve tried to catch her. Sometimes in a crisis, we panic. We can’t blame ourselves for that. That’s just our nature. You can’t second guess yourself forever.”

“If it was the other way, she would’ve saved me.”

There was a long, silent pause, while Twilight pondered. It was probably true. That was Rainbow’s nature.

She felt Twilight smile softly against her cheek. “Yeah, she probably would have.” The embrace tightened. “But you can’t blame yourself for not being her. We all love you just the way you are, Fluttershy. ”

She didn’t respond, but calmed slightly.

“Feeling better?”

“No. Maybe. A little bit.”

Twilight pulled away. “I’ve got to talk to Applejack and Rarity. Can you promise me you’ll get some rest, and still be here when I come back to talk to you again?”

“I… OK.”

Only on the other side of the room, Twilight made no attempt to hide her conversation with Applejack.

“Applejack, what–”

“Ah don’t… Ah was just… Ah don’t know, Twi, Ah was just thinkin’ about Dash and Fluttershy and Ah was so angry all of a sudden…” Her voice warbled slightly. “Ah… Ah just don’t know what Ah’m gonna do without ‘er, Twi…”

Twilight sighed wistfully. “OK. I’m not going to yell at you. We’re all having a hard time with this. But… I think you should leave.”

Momentarily, the fury returned to Applejack’s voice. “Well y’all sure ain’t! Rainbow Dash is dead, Twilight, don’t ya even care?! How can ya be so… so damn Twilight?”

“I… I don’t… organization?” As stupid as it sounded, it was completely true. “Grieve” was item number twenty-two on her mental checklist, and she was only nearing the completion of item number seven. With Applejack’s outburst having added new items number sixteen through eighteen, she wouldn’t have time to grieve for at least two days.

Applejack huffed, but otherwise didn’t reply. Her gait to the door was plodding and forlorn.

Her voice returned soothingly. “Ah’m sorry, Fluttershy. Truly.” The door shut softly behind her.

Returning to Fluttershy’s side, Twilight spoke in the most caring tone she could muster. “You’ll get some rest?”

“Yes.”

Satisfied, she left quietly, retreating back into the rain.

“Ya let her die, Fluttershy.

“Ya let her die.”





Thunder was booming from distant lightning strikes on the horizon by the time Twilight reached the Carousel Boutique. Too wet for pleasantries, she bolted through the unlocked door without knocking, slamming it behind her.

The boutique was dark. Fearing the melodramatic consequences of getting any of Rarity’s supplies wet, Twilight didn’t dare move from her spot or even remove her dripping black cloak. Instead, she called out into the abyss. “Rarity?”

Her voice reverberated through the room quietly, Rarity’s home seeking out its own master, but there was no reply. A few seconds passed, she tried again, somewhat louder. “Rarity, are you home?”

Again, nothing but the reflection of her own voice returned to her. With a sigh, her horn glowed, and she illuminated a small patch of the room in magenta light.

The clutter was even more labyrinthine than usual, with bits of half-worked cloth and torn dresses lying strewn across the ground and over the furniture. The dressing screen which generally sat next to the stage had been so draped with fabric that it had fallen over, leaving a splayed mess of clothes in its wake. Getting from the entrance to the stairs without damaging anything was in and of itself a challenge, but one to which Twilight was committed.

She stepped carefully through the maze, adjusting her gait and twisting her legs awkwardly to find a suitable path. She scolded herself with each misstep, each muddy footprint, each torn bit of silk, but pressed on, until a misplaced hoof led to a much louder response than she’d expected.

“Yipe!”

She recoiled the intruding hoof immediately. “Rari– oh, Sweetie Belle. What are you doing here?”

Sweetie Belle blinked her drowsy, puffy eyes, woken from a nightmare. “Huh? I was visiting Rarity. She seemed really sad.”

Twilight leaned down to give the thoughtful filly a warm hug, but a drop of water falling from her muzzle made her think better of it. “That’s very sweet of you, Rarity is lucky to have a sister like you. Where is she now?”

Sweetie Belle’s expression drooped. “Idonno. She was here a while ago, running around and tearing up dresses and stuff. I tried to stop her, but she just kept goin’. Then she said she had to go somewhere, and just left. I wanted to follow her, but… um, I’m kinda afraid of lightning.”

The sound of Twilight’s mane dripping onto the already damp carpet was allowed a brief solo while she considered what Sweetie Belle had said. Rarity had gone… somewhere.

With a flash of insight, she spun, and ran from the room, paying the articles she’d been so careful to avoid no heed. She left a trail of muddy hoofprints and ruined fabric behind her, but it was of no concern. Her only concern was finding Rarity.





At the opposite end of town, Rarity damply trudged to a familiar location she’d escaped only hours ago. It was dark now, and foreboding, illuminated only by the pale moonlight and occasional flash of lightning. Rainbow Dash’s grave was still fresh, unblemished, and untrodden.

In front of it sat Scootaloo, thoroughly soaked and shivering visibly, but refusing steadfastly to leave, repeatedly brushing her mane from her eyes every time the rain pushed it back out of place. She stared at the grave and the headstone, as if her being there would change anything. Still, Rarity was sympathetic, as she too had been drawn there.

Rarity sat next to Scootaloo, and they stared languidly together. Miserable, soused and frigid, they were poor company for themselves and each other.

After several silent minutes of introspection, Scootaloo spoke tepidly. “How’d it happen?”

Rarity looked at her, surprised but unmoved. “You don’t know?”

“Nopony would tell me,” she pouted.

Looking back to the gravestone, Rarity spoke in the same plain tone she had at the funeral. “It was my fault. It was because of my carelessness.”

A pop, a tear, a crack, a squeak. A pointless sacrifice, treasure traded for rubbish.

There was another long silence, as both continued their torpid but trembling stare. Scootaloo’s demeanor broke, and she began to whimper and weep.

“Why couldn’t it have been you?”

Rarity barely even paused. “It ought to have been.”

Twilight arrived only several minutes later, but by then, both Rarity and Scootaloo were gone.





Fluttershy was awoken by her door slamming, followed by a sequence of deep gulps of air. Even in her exhausted gasps, her accent was clear. There was nopony else it could have been.

“Ya let her die.”

There was a loud shake and the startling chill of droplets of water hitting Fluttershy’s pelt, then Applejack walked slowly to her side.

“Err… hey, Fluttershy.”

She opened her eyes, and was glad to find that the action didn’t bring her pain this time, though the world around her was a bit blurry. She turned her head to the side with a pained wince, as the still healing cut in the back of her head tugged painfully at her mane. She lifted a hoof to her head; her mane and coat were matted with blood, but otherwise she was in no danger. As her eyes adjusted, Applejack slowly faded into view.

Applejack’s hat was pulled down low over her face, but even in the tiny bit of her muzzle that was visible was wrought with shame.

“Sorry to wake ya, Fluttershy, but Ah needed to see ya.” Her exhaustion was plain in her creaking voice, and she paused to cough and sputter. “Ah just… Ah’m so sorry. Ah wanted to blame somepony, Ah wanted it not to be some stupid coincidence. Ah’m sorry that had to be you. Ya don’t deserve that.”

Fluttershy let herself melt further into the comfortable cushions, silently.

“Ya let her die.”

“Yes I do.”

“N–No! Fluttershy, no! Ya didn’t do anything wrong, ya–”

“Ya let her die.”

“I let her die.”

What façade of phlegmatism Applejack had carefully constructed for this conversation was dropped in an instant, and she dashed to Fluttershy’s side, embracing her and sobbing against her.

“No, Fluttershy, no!”

Applejack was cold and wet from rain, and didn’t realize that she was just making Fluttershy damp and uncomfortable, and softening the coägulated blood against her neck.

Fluttershy barely whispered. “I should’ve done something.”

Applejack cried, holding her tighter. “Ah’m so sorry, Fluttershy. Ah’m so sorry. What are we gonna do without her?!”

“Ya let her die.”





Canterlot was far different in the middle of the night than it had been in the middle of the day less than a week prior. Twilight’s frenzied hoofbeats echoed against the stone buildings, and her galloping tired her quickly, but she ran with the utmost of desperation. She knew where Rarity would be, and nothing good could come of it.

Several minutes after leaving the train station, she was at the outskirts of Canterlot’s downtown, approaching the winding alleyways that made up its oldest districts. They were dark, with little magic to light them, and the stone was slick and dangerous.

Nonetheless, she pressed on at a full gallop.





“Fluttershy… can ya ever forgive me?”

Fluttershy nodded against her.

“Are… are we still friends?”

Another nod.

Applejack whimpered and held yet tighter, her voice cracking. “Good. Ah don’t think Ah could stand to lose another friend right now.”





It was so much simpler this time around.

Just the air blowing in her mane and the sound of her heart beating. Just the receding ceiling and twisted metal above.

She had no worries. She had no concern. There was nothing left to do. It was all so simple now.

She couldn’t rectify what she’d done. She couldn’t make things right.

The air whipped past her faster. She grabbed at her mane, trying pointlessly to keep it from coming undone. After all, she thought, there’s no need to look bad.

She chuckled. Even for you, Rarity, that was a foolish thought.

Everything was easier without worrying about her friends. Nopony was there. Nopony but her. Nopony to dash in and make a heroic sacrifice.

The ceiling wasn’t visible any more. It was lost somewhere in the dark abyss. Everything was dark now. She took a deep, calming breath, closed her eyes, and smiled.

The sound was hauntingly familiar. A pop, then a visceral tearing that pulsated through her body like sharpened hooves on a chalkboard. Then a loud crack, the sound of bone torn from bone. Finally just the light squeak of the door opening, as Twilight entered the room.

There was one difference. One alteration, a fitting adaptation of old sound to new circumstance. The fates were now more merciful.

The echoes faded quickly into oblivion.


~fin~